“How do they do business?”
“They…we don’t do business. Except for what comes in and goes out on the rails. Rolly and Ol’ Cryer make rum money by scuttlin’ gossip back and forth. That’s about the extent of it.”
He tried again to win her understanding, for what purpose, he wasn’t sure. “I took you to Goldie’s, because there’s no hotel in Buck. I contacted Donnell, thinkin’ a story about a fine, upstandin’ citizen, a champion of woman suffrage, no less, bein’ forced to put up in the local…uh, at Goldie’s, well, that might draw attention to the fact that we need a hotel in Buck.”
“I must have looked like a fine upstanding citizen. Tumbled up from falling down the stairs, surrounded by the town’s…I’ll never forgive you for such a travesty.”
“Damnation, Maddie. How was I to know you would come barrelin’ out that door followed by every whore in town?”
She turned an instant, flaming red at his coarse language.
“Sorry. I got carried away. Sorry.”
She tilted her head, stared out at the mountains. “There’s a hotel in Horn?”
He nodded.
“But you didn’t think to tell me?”
“I thought about it.”
“You decided to lie instead.”
“I didn’t lie. Not about that. And wasn’t I the only person who offered to drive you out to Morley’s? Wasn’t I?”
“We don’t know for certain that would have been the case, do we, Mr. Grant? If I had gone to the hotel in Horn, perhaps some true gentleman—”
“There aren’t any true gentlemen in Horn, Maddie. No one over there would have driven you out to Morley’s.”
“How do you know?”
“Jed told them not to.”
She confronted him at that. Tears glistened in her eyes. Tears, from this starch-backed, tight-laced…Before he thought, he had reached for her. For the moment it took him to pull her into his arms, she didn’t resist.
“Maddie, I’m sorry.” She went stiff as a dead tree branch and felt about the same with her corseted frame and sharp elbows jabbing him in the ribs. But he held her in place, cradling her face in the lee of his shoulder.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Maddie.”
“I’ll just bet,” she mumbled into his shirt. He felt her breath, through his clothing, warm and moist.
“I didn’t,” he repeated, and at that moment he meant it more than he had ever meant anything in his life. Tugging her face back with both hands, he tried to look in her eyes, but they were tightly closed.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you.” The last was mumbled against her skin, because he couldn’t resist kissing her.
Her pursed lips were soft, unschooled. He knew she was wary after the way he’d treated her at the depot. At the thought, a gentleness that was at once strangely foreign and bewitchingly erotic took hold of him.
She surprised him by not pulling away, but she sat stiff as a pillar, even when he folded his arms around her and pulled her close and deepened the kiss.
Then of a sudden she seemed to relax. Her lips became pliable and her tight fists loosened against his chest.
Sweet, fiery passion consumed him. It had been simmering inside him all day. Hell, ever since the day before when she charged across the railroad tracks and he saw something in her green eyes that no man had ever seen before.
That must be the case, else Maddie Sinclair wouldn’t be a spinster. And if she weren’t a spinster, she wouldn’t be sitting on this wagon seat, wrapped in his arms. He tightened his hold, deepened his kiss. When her fingers inched up his chest, his body responded as though he had just come through a twenty-year drouth.
Madolyn had never experienced anything so sensual. Tyler’s lips were as soft as the air itself; his arms encircled her like the mountains that embraced this barbaric land, and were every bit as strong and protective. She snuggled against him the way a child would snuggle into her pillow, seeking solace, seeking protection.
Her hands opened against his chest. She felt his heart beat beneath his crisp white shirt. In her mind’s eye she saw him as he had been that morning, filling his doorway with broad, muscular shoulders and bare chest sprinkled with a dusting of silky brown hair. She saw his trim waist, the open placket of his duckins. Inside, she began to glow, as though her veins ran with molten honey. She saw Penny-Ante—
Reality returned in a heartbeat; sanity cleared her brain. She pulled herself free, then scooted as far away as the short wagon seat allowed. Her ire rose. Of all the wicked, barbaric…
“How dare you!” she shrieked. Not knowing what to do with her hands she was suddenly conscious of them flying about in the air. “How dare you!” Gaining direction, she slapped him hard on the cheek. The sound echoed through the stillness; surprise registered in his eyes.
“You might have put me up in a house of ill repute, sir, but I am not that kind of girl.” Something inside her denied the claim. Whatever that kind of girl was, something inside Madolyn had enjoyed every sweet, sensuous moment of being in Tyler’s embrace, of having his arms pull her close and closer, of feeling his lips, of tasting him, of kissing him back. Kissing him back!
He fingered the place on his cheek where she slapped him. “I know the kind of girl you are, Maddie. And I explained about Goldie’s. There was no other place.”
His words barely registered in her unsettled brain. She had kissed him! Miss Abigail would be mortified! She had let down her guard, and look where it got her.
For one as proper as she, the last two days had been filled with anything but decorum. In two days’ time, she, Madolyn Sinclair, secretary of the Boston Woman Suffrage Society had exchanged intimate glances with this…this devil in britches. But had she stopped there?
No, ma’am, she had not. She had flirted, she knew that, for she had felt light-headed and dizzy numerous times, just from looking at the man. Her blood pounded through her veins anytime she was near him.
Lifting a hand she placed it over her heart. Lord in heaven, her heart had fluttered itself silly the last two days, and that kiss hadn’t helped at all. Not one whit.
But that wasn’t the half of it. She had kissed the man. First, she allowed him to kiss her in front of the uncouth citizens of this divided town. She tried to convince herself she had no choice in the matter.
And she might have believed that—until today. Until this moment. Madolyn stared forlornly into the dense whiteness of Tyler’s rumpled shirt, realizing that it was she who had rumpled it; she who had lain her head against it, and worse, she even rubbed her breasts into it. Lord in heaven, if the thought didn’t do unbelievable things to her even now.
She had to get out of here, that’s what she had to do. She glanced to the ground, then up, off toward where town must surely lie. But how far?
She should walk. That’s what she should do. But could she? As if he read her mind, Tyler caught her arm.
“You can’t walk to town, Maddie. Not in this heat.”
“Unhand me!”
He tightened his hold. “For Pete’s sake, Maddie, it was just a kiss.”
Just a kiss? “To one as experienced as you, I’m sure, sir.”
“Damnation! Get off your high horse. You enjoyed it, too.”
She gritted her teeth, ready to deny the charge, unable to do so. For, heaven help her, she had enjoyed it. Enjoyed it! Lord in heaven! Morley wasn’t the only one to inherit their father’s depravity.
“Unhand me,” she ordered again.
“I ought to. I ought to let you find out just how hot it is out there.”
She jerked to free herself, but still he held on. His eyes bore into hers. He was angry. And that frightened her.
“I intended to find you a more respectable place to stay,” he was saying, “but on second thought, maybe you have a little more to learn about life.”
“Such as?”
He grinned, a wicked grin, befitting a devil. A wicked grin that set her heart to pounding in her throat, e
ven as it chilled her blood.
“Take me back to town, Mr. Grant.”
“I’m considerin’ it.” He appeared to mull over the situation, while his eyes roamed her. They lingered on her lips and she was unable to draw her gaze away from him. Her heart pounded loudly, like thunder.
“Tell you what,” he drawled. “I’ll make you a trade.” He released her arm.
She rubbed the spot where he had held. “You’re big on making trades.”
“I’ll take you back to town, when you call me Tyler.”
Her mouth dropped open. The nerve of him. The everlasting nerve of him. She turned away. Stared out at the mountains. The sun was low on the horizon; soon it would be setting. The sky was turning pink. The wind had died down to a breeze.
Crossing her arms, she gripped them with tight fists. Why had she come to this barbaric land? Her brother didn’t want her. It would take every ounce of perseverance she could muster to persuade him to sign those papers.
And Tyler was propositioning her. Oh, she realized it wasn’t a real proposition. But that’s the way her heart heard it—making more of that kiss than she should. More of his touch, his piercing looks.
But, Lord in heaven, she was lonely. So lonely. And she had been for such a long, long time.
“Come on, Maddie,” he pressed. “It’s just a word. There’s no harm in it.”
“No harm? What would you know about harm? You, who…who…” She inhaled trying to think of one wicked thing to single out from among all his wickedness. “You can wear clean shirts every day of the week and Sunday, too, Mr. Grant, but it won’t make you a gentleman.”
“I never claimed to be a gentleman, damnit. All I’m askin’ is…one simple word.”
“It isn’t simple,” she shouted. Embarrassed, she gripped her emotions, turned back to stare at the mountains. Tears threatened, as they had so often the last two days. This time she feared they might win. She fought harder.
“Come on, Maddie.”
“Please don’t,” she whispered into the wind. “Please, don’t do this to me.”
He didn’t press her further, but released the brake and headed the team for town. The wind in her face cooled her; she strove to regain her composure before they reached the House of Negotiable Love, where she would be forced to deal with yet another of life’s sordid aspects.
Madolyn was used to tackling her emotions. She prided herself on being able to suppress tears, smiles, to control her anger, her disappointments, yes, even her loneliness, so that no one ever suspected the little weaknesses that nettled at her strength like a dog nipping at one’s heels.
Under Miss Abigail’s tutelage, she had learned to subjugate personal concerns to those of other women. Now she called forth every lesson she had ever learned. To begin with she had to get her mind off this devil sitting beside her. And how better, than to concentrate on her other problems?
Such as convincing Morley to sign those papers. Such as helping his family. First thing tomorrow she would send off an order for shoes—boots, rather—for the children. Then she would engage the aid of some mother in Buckhorn—surely she could find one decent family in the town. With a mother’s aid, she could make a list of everything the children needed.
Morley might not claim them, but she certainly did. They were her nephews and nieces and she intended to do everything in her power to see that they were reared properly and educated to meet the future. And the first order of business was to straighten out the disgusting situation between their parents.
“Under the circumstances, I suppose it should be simple…”
“What’s that?” Tyler inquired.
Unaware that she had spoken out loud, she started at his question. But thinking on it, perhaps it was just as well. Tyler had to learn her plans sooner or later. Why not discuss them now, while she had a chance?
“A simple ceremony,” she repeated. “Morley and Carlita’s wedding.”
Tyler jerked back on the reins, bouncing both of them on the wagon seat. “Wedding?”
“They have to get married.”
He stared, gaped would be a better word, she decided. “I shall speak with the preacher. You do have a preacher in…uh, which is your town?”
“Buck.”
“You do have a preacher in Buck, don’t you, Mr. Grant?”
His features were unreadable. “Now, Maddie, that’s not such a good idea.”
“Never mind. Lucky can direct me.” She paused, thinking. “Do you suppose he will hold it against me for boarding at the…uh, the house?”
Tyler shook his head, as though she were the strangest creature in the whole world. “You beat all, Maddie Sinclair. Damned if you don’t beat all.”
Although she knew he was berating her, his tone didn’t sound hostile, rather, he grinned when he said it, and, Lord in heaven, if her heart didn’t pump a little faster. She forged ahead, trying to ignore this man’s unwelcome, yet potent, effect on her.
“When the plans are firm,” she told him, “such as the date the preacher can go with us to the ranch, I shall inform you.”
“Whoa, now, Maddie. This is your shindig. Don’t count on me. You’re in way over my head already.”
“But you must participate. By your own admission, you are Morley’s best friend.”
Tyler glared. “You’re the meddlin’est woman I’ve run across in all my life. Do you know that? You take the prize and leave the competition in distant second.”
“I’ve been called worse.” She smiled, pleased to have regained her composure. “Believe me, Mr. Grant, my skin is tough. And this is part of my work. Sometimes only a woman can straighten out the messes you men make of our lives.” She smiled again. “Morley will expect you to stand up as his best man.”
“Best man!”
“You are his best friend.”
“Hell, Maddie, I don’t believe what I’m hearin’.” He shoved his hat back and wiped his brow with his sleeve. “Let me put it this way. If Morley Sinclair and a Comanche brave decked out in war paint were both caught in a bog, I’d sooner save the Comanche.”
Madolyn shrugged. “Then it’s high time the two of you made up. Friendships shouldn’t—”
“Never in a million years. Look at me when I say this, Maddie. Never in a million years.”
“You must serve my brother as best man, Mr. Grant. There is no other way. It’s for a good cause.”
Tyler didn’t respond; she knew he didn’t dare. Wasn’t it true that the first person to speak after an ultimatum had been issued, lost? This was one issue Madolyn did not intend to lose.
Shortly, then, and in silence, they arrived back at the House of Negotiable Love. No sooner had Tyler drawn rein at the back staircase, than Lucky hurried down the steps to meet them.
“Miss Goldie asks would you have a word with her an’ the girls right away, Miss Maddie. They’re in a tight place.”
“A tight place?” Without thinking, Madolyn stepped off the wagon into Tyler’s hands. His touch went straight to the heart of her, and for a moment she was tempted to look in his eyes. She resisted, striving to focus on Lucky’s explanation.
“I’ll see what Goldie wants,” Tyler was saying.
“She sent for me.”
“I’ll handle it, Maddie. No tellin’ what she’s up to.” He nudged her toward the back stairs with a hand to the small of her back. That sturdy hand, that intimate gesture. The glow spread like honey inside her again.
Deliberately, she moved away. For some reason, she was able to think straighter without him near. “Goldie sent for me, Mr. Grant. When a woman calls, I answer. It is part of my work.”
Six
“This is no place for a lady, Maddie.” Tyler caught up with Madolyn before she reached the front door of the House of Negotiable Love.
“Spoken like a true man.” Gaining the porch, she glared back over her shoulder at him. “Are you not the person who brought me here?”
“To the back entrance.”
/> “I shan’t use the back entrance, sir. Regardless of what you think of me, I am a lady.”
“Miss Maddie!” Goldie stuck her head out the gaudy screen door and peered anxiously up and down the deserted street. “You needn’t come in by the front.”
“You called for my help, Miss Nugget. Lucky said you’ve found yourself in a tight place.” When Madolyn reached for the screen, Tyler jerked it out of her grasp.
“Hold on a cockeyed minute, Maddie.” He tried to bar her entrance.
“Excuse me, sir.” As though to prove to herself she could face him without faltering, she held his defiant stare. Hold fast, Miss Abigail taught. Set your sights, and allow no one to turn you aside.
“What is it with you?” he barked. “Yesterday you hobbled to this house on a wrenched ankle because you thought I might carry you in the front way. Now, you charge in on your own two feet in broad open daylight—”
Madolyn cast a withering glance at the sky. “In Boston we call this dusk. And yesterday I was wrong.”
“Hot damn! Madam secretary of the Boston Woman Suffrage Society can be wrong about something.”
“Certainly.” She stiffened her spine. “You should try such an admission sometime, Mr. Grant. It’s good for the constitution. Miss Abigail says so.”
“Who the hell is Miss Abigail?”
Incensed, Madolyn sashayed through the door.
“What about my apology?” Tyler followed her into the foyer. “Isn’t an apology the same as admittin’ one’s mistakes? Huh? Isn’t it?”
“Tyler, hon.” Goldie placed a restraining hand on Tyler’s arm, squeezing his biceps. The blatantly sensual act did queasy things to Madolyn’s stomach.
“Miss Maddie’ll be all right in our enclave of misfits,” Goldie was saying. “We don’t intend to boil her for dinner. Or even sign her up to work for us.”
The outlandish suggestion was so startling, Madolyn didn’t think to turn away. She watched Goldie wink at Tyler.
“But if we do, big boy, you’ll be the first to know.”
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